


From Hurting to You

by SpiritWorld



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Angst, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenlock, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:39:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritWorld/pseuds/SpiritWorld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While everyone had a friend Sherlock Holmes had none. </p>
<p> John Watson never knew what family really meant. </p>
<p>Two broken souls work their way into one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Hurting to You

Abandonment was an issue he’d faced early on. When he was a toddler his doctors said his ability to learn new things would be far above average. His parents were naturally proud and overjoyed, but his intelligence did not bring him pride or happiness as he aged. At age five he could already read at a high school level. Kids teased him for knowing big words they’d never learned and cried when he told them truths he thought they needed to hear. While everyone had a friend Sherlock Holmes had none. At twelve he was diagnosed as a high functioning sociopath. Sherlock snorted. To him it was just another way of calling him a freak, except this time it was scientifically proven. He could read people now, Mycroft had taught him how when he was younger. Everyone was uneasy around him, on edge. They were all so dull and naïve. At fifteen he never slept because his mind would never quiet down. He noticed everything about everyone, and all the information became so loud. Shortly after, he began taking drugs to dull the constant activity in his mind. When Mycroft found out he had him shipped away to St. Bart’s boarding school. His own brother was a traitor. Sherlock Holmes was an outcast since the day he was born. 

 From a broken home came a broken child. John never knew what family really meant, at least not what many would call a proper family. His mother died when he was ten leaving him with a deadbeat father and an alcoholic older sister. They both drank excessively, the difference was only one laid their hands on him. He still had scars from where his father struck him, blaming a ten year old for the untimely death of his wife. In a sort of twisted way, Harry did care for him. She would never stop the beatings but she’d try to hold him after to calm him down. It always ended up with him letting her cry into his shoulder. He carried her burdens when really it was suppose to be the other way around. Finally at age sixteen his aunt gained custody of him after their father burned the house down with him in it and Harry went off to Uni. She was a sweet lady really and she did feel terrible for her nephew. She let John choose where he wanted to finish his schooling. A month later he was off to study at St. Bard’s boarding school in Greater London.

 When Sherlock saw his roommate he rattled off everything he could tell about him.

_Abused as a child, alcoholic sister, orphan._

 John’s eyes grew wide and Sherlock thought he’d cry then and there. It wouldn’t be the first time his roommate bailed on him, it had happened eight times the previous year. Instead John called him brilliant and asked him how he knew. Someone was genuinely fascinated with his skill. Something warm sparked inside of Sherlock and he couldn’t place it. John smiled at him, genuine adoration gleaming behind his eyes. John Watson was an enigma; one Sherlock Holmes desperately wanted to figure out.

It was late November, three months since the semester at St. Bards started and Sherlock had just managed to cover the entirety of their room in custard and pickle juice after another one of his explosive projects.

 “Bloody hell, Sherlock! You’ve gone and got it all over my favorite jumper!” Sherlock scoffed at the other teen’s blatant overreaction.

 “It’s an experiment, John. You’re not required to be in here if you prefer to stay clean,” he threw back taking off his safety goggles and turning down the Bunsen burner. His gaze traveled over to John who was now removing his jumper. Sherlock’s breath hitched in his throat as he eyed the scar that trailed up the left side of John’s body. The other boy realized almost instantly what he had done and pulled his jumper back down quickly covering his torso.

 Sure he had already deduced the fact of his roommate’s childhood abuse, but to see the evidence left behind was purely repulsing and mystifying. Sherlock stepped closer to him reaching out his hand as if expecting an invitation. “You weren’t supposed to see that, sorry.” Of course John would apologize for something that wasn’t even his fault. Sherlock gripped the bottom of his jumper and John looked up at him furrowing his eyebrows. “Sherlock, what do you think you’re-“

 “John.”  _please._ His voice stunned John into silence and he gave Sherlock a curt nod not taking his eyes off of the other boy’s hands as they lifted up his jumper. Nimble fingers grazed over the stitched expanse of skin and he winced. It didn’t hurt but the area was certainly tender even after a few years. Sherlock suddenly withdrew his hand from John’s side.

 He leaned in until their faces were only a breath away. Memories of taunting children and bad decisions he had failed to delete rushed through his brain and overpowered his thoughts. He didn’t deserve John Watson. A boy who’d been so brave despite his disadvantages, unlike him. John had not cracked; he had not let himself slip like Sherlock had. He had many friends, even a good group of girls who wanted to date him. Both were young men who’s odds were against them their entire lives, but John never yielded even when no one would blame him for it. Sherlock didn’t deserve anyone let alone John Watson.

 Regardless, he found his lips pressing lightly against John’s and the overwhelming flood of information rushing through his head came to a sudden stop. Instead it was replaced by a single word that meant so much more to him than he could have ever anticipated.

_John._

 Sherlock pulled away and cataloged John’s reactions to the kiss. He was smiling, pupils dilated, and that same adoration present in his eyes whenever he called him brilliant or simply looked at Sherlock when he thought he wasn’t being noticed. “You’re thinking to loud,” John parroted the words the other had said to him countless times. “You should do that again,” he whispered curling his fingers around Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock obliged letting the warmth of it wash over him and assure him that he was not alone.

 Trust was a virtue they both struggled with for most of their lives. They found trust in each other, and enough excitement to last a lifetime.


End file.
